The Red Letter Collection
by Miss Peg
Summary: A Jane and Lisbon fanfiction collection. Current Update: The Walls Are Closing Around Us - The warehouse building stood on the corner of two very empty streets in the middle of a derelict area somewhere outside of Sacramento.
1. Drunk

**Title: **Drunk

**Author: **miss_peg

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **The team's Christmas meal ends in a way nobody expected, least not Jane.

**Notes: **This collection is going to contain fanfiction about Jane/Lisbon, the first few stories were written for a holiday fic challenge on livejournal. This one was written for Justlook's prompt I'm a little home can you take me drunk?

Lisbon's head pounded so hard that she wished nothing more than to flick a switch and have a moment's peace. In the office she could hide behind her workload and blame her headaches or migraines on stress. Sitting in a restaurant with her colleagues, she couldn't escape the perpetual throbbing under her skull.

'To everything we should be thankful for,' said Rigsby, holding up his glass towards the centre of the table.

Lisbon rose her glass and repeated Rigsby's words with the rest of the team, before the clinking commenced. She forced a smile and sipped her glass of wine. Alcohol wouldn't help her impending migraine, nor would it hinder its arrival either. If anything, drinking would numb the pain, something she'd learned the hard way and yet still couldn't help but do.

'And a Merry Christmas.' Grace held up her glass and again the team repeated, clinked and drank. They found four more reasons to raise their glasses to, mostly case related, mostly minor, but it made them all smile and by the final 'To Wainwright for leaving us the hell alone,' from Jane, they were surrounded by laughter.

Most years they weren't afforded the opportunity to take an evening out and have a holiday meal. Really, they should have thanked Wainwright for his hand in the evening (and the money to pay for it) not berate his actions, though even Lisbon couldn't help snorting with laughter.

'We should do this more often,' said Jane, once the plates had been cleared.

They sat in silence for a moment; thinking of work was something they all did far too often. Lisbon considered it more than the average person and she knew that even a slither of her work-related thoughts was too much. Before too long the conversation returned to its easy flow of jibes, work and Jane's stories. Lisbon watched with little interest as he showed Cho and Rigsby yet another trick.

'You okay, Boss?' asked Van Pelt who rested a hand upon Lisbon's wrist. She stared at it in surprise then looked up with a brief nod and smile.

'When we're out socialising, you don't need to call me Boss.'

'I know.'

'It's been quite a year,' said Lisbon, referring not only to her injury or Van Pelt's loss, but also the progression of the dynamics within the team. So much had changed since Grace started working for the CBI. In fact, it was the first year that Lisbon really felt able to call her subordinates her friends.

Once upon a time, before the CBI, Lisbon allowed herself the privilege of friendships. Back then it didn't matter quite the same. She wasn't the boss who demanded respect not by being pals with everyone she worked with but by being the person in charge. She didn't work her way to the top without such sacrifices. Though there had been friends in the early days, like Sam.

'It has.'

Behind the soft smile, Grace's eyes told another story of pain that still lingered on the surface. Like Lisbon's own losses, she doubted Van Pelt would easily forget what happened, or forgive O'Laughlin for his deceit.

The conversation had moved on to Rigsby's girlfriend and Cho's impending marriage, both of which were topics of much amusement to Jane. Lisbon poured herself another glass of wine, ignoring the devil on her shoulder telling her that wine wasn't a good idea, nor was anything which contained alcohol. She drank it anyway and listened to Rigsby telling the team about his Christmas plans to visit Sarah's family. He looked happy, happier than he'd been in a long time. She always assumed that Rigsby and Van Pelt wouldn't be able to hold back their feelings for one another long enough to keep their jobs on the same team. Even when O'Laughlin died, she half expected him to be Van Pelt's shoulder to cry on. The thing that surprised her the most was not that Rigsby had moved on, but that he finally seemed genuinely happy doing so.

Lisbon grew quickly drunk as she watched her team socialise around her. They asked the odd question and she answered it, but what she enjoyed the most was the lack of pressure involved in sitting there silently. Nobody expected her to ask the questions, or share the answers and after years being their boss, it felt like a welcomed relief.

'Time to go?' said Rigsby sometime after twelve. Van Pelt and Cho followed him out of the restaurant leaving Lisbon and Jane alone.

Eyes were finally all on her and she hated it, so much so that she finished her glass of wine and poured another. When she looked at how many bottles were on the check, her head began to spin. How had she allowed herself to drink that much?

'I don't feel so good,' she whispered once the check had been paid.

'A little too much vino?' laughed Jane. Lisbon groaned and rested her head in her arms. 'Come on, I'll drive you home.'

The first step was the hardest of them all as Lisbon's left foot decided to fall asleep. Jane caught her and wrapped his arm around her waist. She clung to his shoulder and hobbled out of the restaurant.

'I want to…' Lisbon pointed; the word had vanished out of her mind like a coin in a magic trick. 'Take me to bed.'

'That's where we're going,' said Jane.

'We? Do you want to come too?' Jane laughed as he helped her into the passenger seat of his car.

The journey left her feeling worse for wear as the throbbing in her head returned and her mouth grew dry. She tried to remember all of the pre-hangover remedies she knew but the drumming in her mind made it near enough impossible.

'Stop banging,' she shouted, hitting her thighs with her fists. The noise didn't stop. She banged her thighs again repeatedly until Jane reached his hand out to her wrist. 'My head hurts.'

'I know,' he smiled. 'When we get home we'll get you some water and aspirin.'

They pulled up outside the apartments and Lisbon forced the car door open, her whole head had begun to spin and if she didn't find solid ground quickly, she expected to be sick. Instead, she tumbled onto the grass embankment and laughed.

'Oh dear, did Reese take a tumble?' Jane laughed along with her and helped her to her feet.

'Reesey took a tumble,' Lisbon laughed, remembering a moment from her childhood when she grazed her knee. She grinned at the thought of her mother, her beautiful mother, picking her up and kissing it better. She covered her face with her hand and started to sob. 'It hurts so much.'

'Come on, just a few more steps and then we'll be in bed,' said Jane, helping her to her feet and half carrying her into the apartment. She rested her head on his shoulder. He was lovely; he could be really lovely when he wasn't being such an idiot. She wanted to tell him that but the words vanished.

Then the world began to spin again and as she fell she wondered what she'd hit on the way down; a table? Her dresser? No, her bed. She pulled the blankets up around her sides and curled up into the foetal position.

'Ow,' she cried in pain, holding onto her head.

'I've got you some water,' said Jane, holding out the glass, but she batted his hand away.

'It'll help the pain.'

'No,' she said. Then her frown grew into a large smile and she grasped hold of Jane's hand. 'You know what's good for pain?'

'What's that?'

She held him in front of her as she looked into his beautiful blue eyes, just like the sea, she thought. 'Sex.'

He raised an eyebrow and let out a small laugh. 'I doubt that's been proven.'

'It has, I read about it in a women's magazine.'

'Oh, so it must be true.'

'Are you mocking me?' Lisbon tugged at Jane's arm and he tumbled forwards on top of her. The glass clattered against the carpet, but she didn't care. She smiled up at Jane and brushed a curl of his hair back from his forehead.

'Me? Never.'

'I love you Patrick,' she said, her voice small as she held on tightly to his shirt.

'I love you too Lisbon.'

'Teresa. Call me Teresa.'

'I will, Teresa, now let me get your shoes off,' Jane said, trying to push her back down against the bed.

'No,' she snapped, batting his hands away again. 'I really, really love you. Like a boy. Make love to me?'

'You're drunk.'

She ignored his protest and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tugging him that little bit closer until she could press her lips against his. He struggled at first and then gave in to the passionate embrace.

The next morning Lisbon's head pounded harder than she could remember it ever pounding before. She had a vague memory of alcohol and as she tried to move her weak body the task became virtually impossible. She finally opened her eyes which landed on the empty space beside her. She couldn't be sure what had even happened but she remembered Jane being there, on her bed. Eventually she dragged herself into the bathroom where she stood under a stream of hot water until it forced her into a state a little less worse than death.

Wainwright had only given them the morning off; something which she now realised was the worst mistake ever. Then again, drinking the amount that she did was probably a worse mistake, though not the very worst, if her broken memories were anything to go by. A flash of Jane's lips setting fire to her skin sought her attention.

'It didn't happen,' she muttered.

After a lunch of painkillers, water and a cheese and pickle sandwich she began to feel a little better, enough to be at work anyway. She sat at her desk filing through paperwork which really wasn't the thing she wanted to be doing at that moment. Sickness lingered in the pit of her stomach which she ignored.

'Good Afternoon Lisbon,' Jane said as he entered the office without so much as a knock. He marched across the room with two cups of tea; one he placed on the desk in front of her and the other he carried over to the couch where he sat down to drink it.

'I'm busy, what do you want?'

'I wanted to see how you were feeling after last night,' he said, pointing to the cup of tea on her desk. 'You might want to drink that, it's amazing for hangovers.'

'I don't have time for chit chat, Jane.'

'You mean you don't want to know the goss from last night?'

'What gossip?' she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Jane shrugged. 'I don't know, I thought you might have some.'

'Look, Jane,' Lisbon said, taking one whiff of his tea before pushing it as far away from her as she possibly could. 'I'm struggling to remember everything from last night, I seem to recall you were in my, my bedroom.'

'I was.'

'Oh God. Please tell me what I think happened last night, didn't happen.'

Jane stared at her with that knowing look. She considered his expression and concluded that either he was playing games or she'd spent the night with her consultant. The former, whilst chronically annoying, was a marginally better option than the latter.

'What do you think happened, Lisbon?'

Definitely playing games.

'Did we sleep together? Because if we did, it can't happen ag...'

Jane cut her off, much to her relief. 'Oh, that, don't worry, it didn't happen.'

'It didn't?'

'No.' Jane stood up and moved towards her desk, he fumbled with a couple of rubber bands before looking up at her. 'I took you home, put you to bed and left.'

'Are you sure?'

The question's intention wasn't to suggest that Jane was lying to her, though it wouldn't have been the first time. She simply wanted to be absolutely sure, without any margin for error, that they hadn't had sex. How would it look to Wainwright or Bertram? It was bad enough that Hightower had held her keeping schtum on Rigsby and Van Pelt's affair against her for the first few months in her position. If Wainwright ever found out about any potential sexual relationship between her and her consultant, well, it would be the worst thing imaginable.

'Well, I did have a cup of tea and watch Casablanca, great movie, very romantic.'

'Good. I mean, I'm glad we didn't compromise our working relationship.'

'Nah.' Jane pushed her teacup back across the desk. 'Besides, when you started doing the striptease I knew it was time to leave. Drink it, trust me.'

'The what?' Lisbon's face grew pale and that sickly feeling intensified.

'Kidding.'

Lisbon scowled. Now was hardly the time for jokes.


	2. The Walls Are Closing Arund Us

**Title: **The Walls Are Closing Around Us

**Author: **miss_peg

**Rating: **PG

**Summary: **The warehouse building stood on the corner of two very empty streets in the middle of a derelict area somewhere outside of Sacramento.

**Notes: **A holiday fic for steelesimz's prompt The walls are closing around us about the characters Jane and Lisbon.

The warehouse building stood on the corner of two very empty streets in the middle of a derelict area somewhere outside of Sacramento. Lisbon held her flashlight up above her shoulder and thanked God for the brand new batteries she'd found in the trunk of her car. She walked cautiously down the corridor and away from the entrance to the building. Jane stood behind, barely a foot between them, as he stayed close to their only source of light. Suddenly a loud clashing of wood upon concrete made them jump and Jane grappled with her arm until she pushed him back and pulled her gun out its holster.

'Lisbon, if I die,' he began, but she cut him off.

'Quit being a baby and hold the flashlight.'

He took the light and his worries seemed to dissipate as though the flashlight held all of the power and security. She stood at his side, her gun fixed in front of her, ready and waiting for whatever danger may have been upon them.

She rested a hand on the door at the end of the corridor and signalled for Jane to get behind her before she opened it slowly. She snatched the light off Jane, who was too busy shining it at the ceiling to follow her instructions and rested her gun wielding arm upon her wrist.

'Hey!'

'Shh,' she hushed and he stood pouting behind her.

They entered the room slowly and with Jane's hand grasping the material of Lisbon's jacket, she would have pushed him away if it didn't give her the comfort of knowing he was there. The door banged shut behind them and something sprang to life, a loud mechanical whirring sound filled the room.

'Lisbon, what was that?' said Jane, turning around and following as she searched the room with the flashlight.

Before she could respond the walls had moved a few feet closer, gradually inching forwards.

'Lisbon,' he said again, his voice growing more strained as the space around them shrunk considerably.

'The door, the door,' she shouted, pushing him towards in the direction she assumed was the right one but as the flashlight turned shadows into objects the door seemed to have vanished from sight.

'Where is it?' he shouted back, despite being stuck in a metre square room with Lisbon stood inches from his side.

'I don't know.'

The walls eventually moved closer until there was barely enough space for them to be stood together. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and there they stood, firmly together.

'I'm scared,' she whispered, lifting her face up in order to look him in the eye. He stared back down at her and nodded his agreement. He could feel her heart thumping in her chest, jumping across their bodies and into his own. The fear coursing its way around his body left him speechless and so, with little air to breath and little space to move, he inched closer to her and allowed his lips to meet hers.

A loud crashing of papers and hardback books made him jump, wakening him from his slumber. He opened his eyes and there was Elvis on the ceiling above his couch. He let out a long, deep breath which he imagined he'd been holding. Maybe he wasn't really stuck in a room about to face death with Lisbon, but that didn't stop him from closing his eyes and allowing the kiss to reach its conclusion.

**End**


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